


Lights Changing Colour

by ice_cream_assassin



Series: Danny and Chloe fics [3]
Category: Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c.
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 14:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4063762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ice_cream_assassin/pseuds/ice_cream_assassin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For this prompt from the meme: I re-read the fics from when they were in the Treasury together and I miss this pairing. </p>
<p>I kind of have this head canon about a falling out happening in the aftermath of the Paxman interview. I would be curious to see if/how they weather that? Or anything about Danny feeling insecure that Chloe is working with the more conventionally attractive Nick in the Cabinet Office? </p>
<p>Or if anons are looking for something a little bit more current, how does Chloe being on the backbenches affect their relationship? Is there even a relationship anymore? Danny's been focused on giving speeches for the Better Together campaign and from the little press I've seen about Chloe, she's been focusing on more constituency issues. </p>
<p>Honestly, I'd be happy with anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lights Changing Colour

**Author's Note:**

> This is my attempt at trying to get over and purge someone from my system. 
> 
> Title is from the Stars song "Lights Changing Colour" 
> 
> When you’re walking and the lights are changing colour  
> Remember how I held your hand

She won Norwich again.

Fatigued, she took the stage to deliver a brief speech. Chloe needed to collapse, to just not be for at least several hours. Her phone buzzed. She glanced at it briefly. Seeing that the text was from Stella Creasy, Chloe opened it. 

The metalhead lost his seat

Chloe shoved her mobile back into her blazer pocket. She didn’t care. They no longer spoke, apparently a lowly backbencher was not good enough for a man once called a ginger rodent. It was too long in the past for her to still carry that grudge. Tonight she won a difficult campaign - nothing but blue skies ahead. 

=====

Their affair started like most of them. She can admit now that going into the Treasury, trying to fill the hole Justine Greening left, was an intimidating and frightening experience. George greeted her and they had a photo op before he dashed off to some public appearance. Chloe was left in an office full of notes and spreadsheets that made no sense along with aides and civil servants who gave the impression of being annoyed at her promotion. 

Danny was the first person to make her feel welcomed at the Treasury. He bought her lunch at the cafe in the Park. He also revealed his love of metal. She didn’t classify it as such at the time but their first argument was over the Scorpions and if the band would be classified as classic rock or metal. 

He whistled the first bars to ‘Winds of Change’ on the walk back and she giggled. “No one ever considers that they’re known for other songs too, “ he said. 

“What? They had that other song about hurricanes.” 

He sighed, “Rock you like a hurricane.” 

She liked his smile, the easy way they were able to fall into banter. He was kind to her, until he wasn’t but that happened later, way later when there were surprise tax cuts and secrets. 

The early days Danny stayed near her, assisting her with learning the ropes, making her feel at ease with her new role. There were shoulder pats that turned into back rubs. Glances from across the room that made her feel weak. Her brain tried to argue against pursuing anything more than just a working relationship with him. She felt herself opening up to memories and fears that she kept for only her closest friends. She felt desired and crossed some invisible line with him. 

Chloe assumed Danny felt it too, growing closer and closer until he would suddenly pull back. Days, weeks would pass, and she felt he was angry at her for stirring up some forbidden longing within him. The closeness would begin to swell between them again, until he would pull back. Her friends outside of Parliament advised her to stay distant, as they became weary hearing her tales of Danny’s confusion boner and the upset it caused in her. 

It was Halloween when they talked about the spark between them. He had his family, Chloe had her boyfriend. Things were rocky between him and his wife. Her boyfriend was a passing fancy. He looked pained, conflicted by the feelings she dredged up. They could be friends, he promised. She agreed. They could be friends, allies in a place where they both felt out of their league.

It took two weeks for the Halloween accord between them to shatter. The bloody communal fridge was opposite Danny’s office. The stupid fridge and the stupid padlock with the key kept on top of it, making it near impossible for a woman of her short stature to reach it without assistance. 

For a man of his size, Danny could move as stealthy as a ninja. He approached her from behind and reached above her to hand her the key. 

“Thank you.” He watched her turn the key in the padlock, she thought he was silently wishing for something better than the nothing that his life was becoming. He crowded into her personal space, the corner of the refrigerator dug into her spine. Chloe would be lying to herself if said she had never dreamt of this happening. It was always in his office, or some secluded corridor in Parliament.

Danny’s hand rested heavy on the small of her back. His head dipped low and his lips finally met hers. 

In that moment, her body burned hotter than the sun, faster and brighter. The fluorescent lights shone down on them. She sizzled, absorbing the emotions washing over them. Taking and giving back, kissing Danny, more thoroughly than he’s ever been kissed, becoming a beacon in his loveless life.

=====

It was a set up to fall on national telly. A gentle nudge to Paxman’s studio, and a coup de grace delivered by the news behemoth. She wondered when Danny knew. She wondered why he didn’t warn her. She already felt like she was losing him - to George, to his own ambitions, to someone else that was not her. He doesn’t even look at her anymore, and when her mobile rings, Chloe is no longer surprised that his name does not flash across caller ID. 

She could learn to hate him. She wanted to drown in a bottle of fine wine and so get so drunk that she could forget everything about Danny. Her Danny, she thought wryly, the coward, with his sea green eyes, and Highlands drawl, those thin lips that kiss like they mean it and lie even better. She wanted every kindness, every loving gesture. every memory of his crooked smile erased into nothingness.

Chloe slept. Her dreams showed her a life that was not hers. Danny was a father, a husband. He returned home to his wife. He seemed at peace, having done an ‘honest’ day’s work at the Treasury, stitching her up and making her out to be the fool. 

When she woke up, Chloe tried to fight the anger she felt because knowing his personal situations and the recent turn of events in her career - really what did she really expect to happen? Like there was ever going to be a happy ending for them. 

=====

She resigned. The Newsnight incident happened over a year ago; an epoch in politics but not long enough.

The pen scratched against the paper fibers. Two weeks before the Tory Conference and the year of her decline reached this penultimate act; hand writing her resignation letter on standard issue ecru letter sheet. The address for the Cabinet Office was seared in the top right hand corner in black typeface, neat and even, while Chloe’s words were scrawled across the page in blue ink from a dying gel pen. She signed her name with more of a flourish than her usual scribble. With the letter completed, Chloe could breathe again.

The reshuffle ball rolled in what felt like mere minutes after the end of conference season. Sunday evening her notice was laid bare for the news outlets to see. Already her reasons were being picked apart and analyzed for hints of some sinister conspiracy. She ignored the message from Newsnight offering her a more amicable interview.

Chloe’s non-ministerial days formed a repetitive blur. She had grown to like her new routine, sitting on the backbenches when she desired too, spending much needed time in Norwich. Her lunch breaks are now spent reading letters from constituents, near the duck pond in St. James Park. The pigeons and ducks vie for crumbs of her sandwich’s wheat bread as she read over concerns from her constituents. Occasionally her eyes darted around to watch tourists buy overpriced sodas and food from the park’s café.

It was during one of her quiet lunches when she is found by Stella Creasy. Chloe had not been intentionally hiding herself away from anyone she knew from her parliamentary life. She approached Chloe first to offer condolences on her resignation, hinting that Chloe was forced out. 

After protesting and explaining what really happened, Stella offered to call in a favor with the Spectator. She accepted Stella’s offer. She wrote a piece for the Spectator, in hopes of putting to rest the swirling rumours around her resignation. She wanted the media to quit lamenting her faded star. She kept the residual resentment and anger over Danny’s treatment of her in the aftermath of the car-crash interview hidden.

Their friendship that formed was unlikely but not unwelcome. Their opinions often clashed when it came to legislating but when Chloe finally opened up about how things went south with Danny, Stella was there with her indie rock mixed tapes and Ferris Bueller DVD to bring Chloe out of her depressed state. Stella was also brilliant with encouraging her to focus on her constituents in Norwich. Their friendship cemented further after Stella went on a Guardian blind date with Danny. She remembered when Stella promptly called her over to gossip about the Guardian event over curry and The Breakfast Club.

Stella insisted that they should meet up prior to Parliament’s return. She chattered rapidly about the incorrectness of polling, the thrill of getting re-elected, steering the conversation on to the the losers of the election. Chloe can feel the topic shifting to Danny. She wants to talk about him as much as she doesn’t want to talk about him. 

“I haven’t heard from him in months. Can’t say I’m shocked he lost the seat. It was always going to be a close race.” 

“He was hoping his generous spending projects would save him from the SNP. Too bad he couldn’t wash away the Tory stench.” Stella added. “I hear the metalhead is giving up the London flat.”

“Really? That’s surprising news to me. He loved that flat.” 

“That so?” Stella’s eyebrow arched in that mischievous way that unnerved Chloe, like she had a plot forming. “Is it a nice place?” 

“It’s lovely. Wood floors, gorgeous windows. He had the kitchen redone and the bathroom is updated too.” 

“Maybe we could do a timeshare? Be roomies?” 

And her curiosity got the better of her. Chloe left their brunch date with renewed purpose in tracking down the flat’s leasing again. A cursory search on the address lead her to the agent. She hesitated, finally deciding to close out of the web browser. 

====

She contacted the leasing agent, not for any other reason than simple curiosity. She hadn't been in the flat for years. 

The agent pointed out the amenities it offered. Chloe’s memory pointed out that Danny once stood in this kitchen among the clutter of dirty dishes and an electric kettle boiling furiously. She had clucked her tongue, then giggled over the mess. She eventually offered to help clean up. He washed the dishes and she would dry them. He splashed water on her and she slapped at him with a towel. She shook her head forcing back the image him lifting her up onto the countertops and her panties dangling on her left ankle as they made love on the countertops. 

The flat couldn’t help that it was bathed in the history of them. Him helping her across the threshold after she broke her foot. The first time Danny brought her here when she twirled across the hardwood floors like some manic pixie dream girl. Just how many showers started off with just her alone underneath the rainfall shower head until Danny stumbled in to wash her back? How many nights had she fallen asleep, trying to connect the freckles on Danny’s chest? How could she let these precious things escape into someone else’s hands? She is overcome with a terrible longing for someone she should not want. 

=====

She found it odd, miraculous maybe, seeing Nick Clegg sitting under the fig trees in Portcullis House. Well done for him holding his seat in Sheffield. How awful for him to be one of the lonely 8 LibDems returning to Parliament. 

Nick Clegg had all the time in the world, or so Chloe thought. He looked better than he has done in years. She approached him, unsure of what exactly she wants from him. Nick is friendly. He has no reason not to be. He acted a bit on guard at first, before relaxing into mundane small talk. 

“Have you spoken with Danny?” She interjected after the discussion about London’s overcast gloom. 

He let out a soft chuckle. “You could have just asked upfront. You and Danny were never a secret.” 

“I worry about him. I heard his London flat is available.” 

“He’s fine. His focus is on the Scottish Elections and preparing to take down the SNP. He’s assisting with rallying the remaining Scottish LibDems.” 

“Oh.” Her eyes cast down low in disappointment. Yet, she felt elated that she won’t have to see him on the cross benches. She missed him and then remembered his sins against her and hated him all over again. “Let him know that I wish him well.” 

Nick was kind, always kind. He scribbled across a napkin, handing it over to her. “I’m sure Danny would not mind hearing from you.” She took the note - a number, Danny’s of course. “He misses you.” And that notion flattered her ego. 

=====

It’s not even noon, and Chloe thought she smelled like the train. She checked her mobile again, noting she has at least thirty minutes until the train arrived at Waverley. She stretched her legs out and then curled them up on the empty seat next to her. She snuggled herself inside her manky old blue jumper, a relic from her father’s closet. It is too big for her but she can cover her hands with the sleeves. Her bag is packed with more flattering attire.  
   
He asked for her to meet him in Edinburgh, away from the familiarity and the gossip of the Westminster Bubble, away from the mythology others had built up about them. She thought of him, of them. Has he been waiting for her for the past years? Walking the hills? Drinking some fine 20 year malt? Had he been wondering if she would make the journey to Scotland to see him. She’ll give her imagination this indulgence, pretending to believe that he wanted her to come to him ever since her Cabinet Office resignation. He wanted to love her once again. 

They met up on Princes Street, just outside Waverley Station. A park is just outside the station. Danny decided on buying coffee from one of the vendors perched on the outskirts. The castle loomed in the background. He smiled, tipping the styrofoam cup toward her. 

She allowed their past to creep up, causing it to prevent her from appreciating the warmth of his arms as he greeted her with a hug, like they were old friends. She preferred remaining like ice to his sunshine, bristling against the press of his thumb against the base of her neck. But for the moment she could be content to stay just like that. She missed how they used to be.

A 5 star hotel in Edinburgh. Her mind had seized on this. He would take her there. Yes, that would be the place where they would start again. Exiled from their own futures, banished from the possibilities of what might have been. A new beginning, free from the tarnish of the past. 

Do not waste this, she thought, the door has opened.

=====

The expanse of mattress between them reminded Chloe of a No Man’s Land. Danny smiled, bright and distant, like the sun breaking over a snow field. She tried to tell herself that it doesn’t hurt laying next to him like this in some fancy Edinburgh hotel. So close, yet still so distant. 

His arm snaked across the empty space, his palm open and waiting. She met his hand, grasping it firmly. 

“I can’t change how I acted or the way things played out.” 

“I know.” 

“I want to do this right, Chlo.” 

She doesn’t reply, but the remark lingered in her mind. The sheets rustled as he rolled closer. Danny hesitated and then pressed his lips against her forehead; a gentle, warm pressure, a silent apology.  
   
Weeks go by until they see each other again. He continued to fight for his beliefs tension’s between the Scottish LibDems and the SNP grown now into a beast of it’s own. 

When they meet again, Chloe felt Danny’s glances heavier than ever. He doesn’t make overtures, he’s never needed to. He’s always pulled her to him - like a siren song. She hoped this renewed fledgling relationship doesn’t destroy them against the rocks.  
   
The sun was high in the sky and a mellow breeze wrapped around them when Chloe stopped resisting her emotions. Then she kissed him, he knew her lips, her taste, and he opened his eyes to see her, to let her know it was -still and always - just them.

====

She tried. 

Perhaps if their reunion took place years, maybe even months ago, maybe they would have stood a chance. He seemed a stranger to her and she was no longer some mousy newbie who used to be somewhat afraid of her shadow. She’s been too independent, having to navigate her way without him for so long. 

She tried, they failed. It’s time to move on. The constituency work keeps her busy and Stella is there with Haagen Daaz and more American films from the ‘80s. She had loved him once in foolish naivety. 

She can’t go back.


End file.
